True to your heart
by fee-kh
Summary: Tricked my computer, so here they are. Last chapter and epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is going to count for all the chapters. I do not own CSI. If I did it would very different. More wet shirts for one thing. But I don't. I can only indulge my fantasy here. Please don't sue me and save flames for later.

A/N: Now that I have home truths up and running, I am changing things here. That story brackets this one, as the points of view change a lot and I didn't feel comfortable having them as one. Greg isn't a CSI and I know that is not sop to have a tech along for the ride, but this is my playground at the moment and I am bending the rules.

All the CSI's are a tad younger though, more like in the first season looks-wise. And Sara got over G a LONG time ago. Glad I have that off my chest.

**True to your heart**

The explosion was horrific, deafening all unfortunate enough to anywhere in the near vicinity. As if in slow motion, Greg watched the fireball race towards Sara and he, the alley they were in only serving to amplify the speed and ferocity. As the larger part of his psyche desperately searched for a way to escape a small part, the scientist in him could only marvel at the beauty of it.

Using all his strength, Greg shoved Sara up and into the dumpster they had been searching only minutes before, slamming the lid down after her and only narrowly missing smashing her head. Of course these actions robbed him of any opportunity to do anything for himself bar ducking behind the dumpster, making himself as small as possible and hoping for the best.

A roaring noise filled his senses as something heavy slammed into him, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He was dimly aware of screaming as the world infernoed around him. Then he knew no more.

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"News just in. A violent gas explosion under Lexington Avenue has caused large-scale destruction in the surrounding areas. Police are unable to comment but do not rule out the possibility of foul play."

Warrick froze midway between sips of coffee. Something about the newscast was tugging at him, tickling his memory much like a clue that was trying to force a connection he could not see. A gut instinct told him it had to do with Greg and Sara. Why that should be though was unclear.

While he was still pondering his thoughts, Grissom poked his head into the break room, a distracted look on his face. "Warrick, have you seen Catherine? I've got the info she wanted on the Deathwatch beetle."

Warrick shook his head, then asked: "Grissom, where are Greg and Sara?"

"I sent them out to a building just off Henderson. A burglary gone bad. Three dead. Sara phoned in an hour ago that they had evidence the murder weapon had been thrown out of the window. A trace blood spatter on the window sill, indicating something was thrown. There is an alley right behind the house, maybe its in one of the dumpsters there. They might get lucky."

Warrick sighed, knowing how his boss' mind worked. "Where's the dumpster exactly?" The tugging at his senses was getting stronger.

"An alley just off Lexington. Why do you ask?"

Warrick jumped up, paling dramatically. "Newscast. Just on TV. Explosion off Lexington."

Grissom frowned: "They're probably fine. I'll contact Sara."

Ten minutes later they had their answer, or not depending on your point of view. Neither Sara nor Greg were answering their mobiles. On the third try Grissom only got a 'no service' notice. Collecting the remnants of his team, the head of the night shift prepared to head out to Lexington and see what they could find.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Well, here we go again. Better safe than sorry. I'm rather attached to my car after all. I do not own any part of the intellectual property that is CSI or any of its spin-offs - not that they show up here. It all belongs to whomever - who is not me. Sadly.

A/N: This is a Greg/Sara centric fic. There will be relatively little about the others.

**Chapter 2 **

Sara groaned. "What the hell is that stench?"

Trying to shift into a more comfortable position, Sara whimpered as vicious pain surged up her leg, stealing her breath and causing her to convulse in agony. Her flailing hand hit a solid obstruction just above her head. She barely managed to hold in the panicky scream lodged in her throat, nightmare vision of being buried alive racing through her brain.

"Get a grip, Sidle." she admonished herself. "Collect the facts. Evidence never lies. Right, Greg and I were searching a dumpster and he pushed me in."

Sara frowned. "He pushed me in! When I get my hands on the little - he will be so sorry." Even as Sara said it though she was aware that she was only distracting herself. Greg may be a clown sometimes, but he would never do anything to hurt even the smallest hair on her body. And he took his job extremely seriously. Moving carefully, trying to disturb her leg as little as possible, Sara felt her way around gingerly, only too aware what people threw away these days. Sara found the lid in no time and managed to crack it open. As sunlight flooded inside it was accompanied by a whiff of smoke, that had her choking back a cough.

"First things first. Find out what's wrong with my leg." Talking to herself seemed to help, like singing while walking down a darkened hallway. Sliding her hands slowly down the injured leg, Sara tried to find out what exactly the damage was. It wasn't hard to find. A knife had embedded itself in her thigh. This posed a problem. Already her jeans were soaked around the wound and when Sara held her hand up to the sliver of light she saw it was smeared with blood. She had to stop the bleeding, remove the knife and put some form of pressure on the wound.

"Not the cleanest environment for this. I wish Greg were here." Sara blanched. She knew there had to be a good reason why Greg wasn't rushing back to see if she was okay. "Time to think about that later. Have to get mobile first." Sara knew you weren't supposed to just pull a knife back out the way it had come in as that ran the risk of worsening the injury. However she didn't have a choice. Bracing herself against the noxious substances she was lying on, Sara carefully lifted her upper body enough to unzip her vest and rip a strip of cloth off her shirt. At least that had stayed clean. From a pocket in her vest she pulled the roll of duct tape she always had with her. Finally some good advice from her father. It would have to do as a bandage. Skimming her hand beneath her leg, Sara was relieved to find that the knife had not gone through the leg. Gingerly moving her hand, Sara felt for the handle of the knife and in one smooth movement that betrayed none of the agony coursing through her body, removed the knife from its human sheath. Waves of blackness threatened to engulf her. Pushing aside the comfort of oblivion from which she knew she might not wake now that the object clogging the wound had been removed, Sara folded the cloth and applied pressure to the wound, securing her makeshift bandage with the duct tape.

Wiping her forehead and gasping for breath, Sara fell back, not caring what she landed in and let herself be carried away into the darkness. Anything else would have to wait.

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Greg couldn't breathe. His lungs felt like they were on fire and even the slightest movement caused excruciating pain to course through his body, leaving him gasping weakly. On top of that his throat felt like it had that time when someone turned the hotplate on too high and the first sip of coffee had sent him running for the water dispenser to cool his seared throat. Unfortunately there was no water dispenser here.

Where-ever here was. Numbly Greg tried to remember how he had ended up in a doorway of the most noxious alley he had ever been unfortunate enough to turn up in. Surely he hadn't gone on a bender. The last time had been at college and he had vowed to never do it again, Sambuca just not looking the same coming back up the way it went down. There was something, something he was supposed to remember..

"Oh God, Sara!" Greg's senses roared to life as panic surged through him, his memory coming back in a rush that left him staggered. The elation at being sent to his first crime scene. Finding the blood on the window sill. Sara and he in the alley. The explosion. The fireball racing towards them. Pushing Sara into the dumpster. 'Oh, she's gonna hate me for that.' The pain. Blacking out. He had to see if she was okay.

"Get a grip, Greg. Find out what's wrong with you and deal with it. Are you a man or a mouse."

Blinking furiously to clear his wavering vision, he took stock of the situation. The explosion must have thrown him clear of the dumpster and into a doorway. Judging by the amount of still burning debris in the alley that had probably saved his life. Patting frantically at his face for a second, Greg heaved a sigh of relief. 'Hair and eyebrows present, thank God. Wouldn't want my good looks to be burnt to a cinder.'

Moving carefully, Greg searched his body for injuries. Apart from copious bruises and what felt like a sunburn on his face, a very tender area on his right indicated one or possibly more broken ribs, echoed by an equally tender section on his left side, which also felt slightly moist, not boding well for his new no-bleeding intentions. As he tried to stand up, another injury made itself felt rather forcefully. His right ankle was sprained at best, or cracked at worst. He did not think it was broken as he could still move it. Just as it had with Sara, the first thing that sprang to mind was the duct tape in his right pant pocket. 'Thank God for combat trousers. Lots of pockets.' Moving slowly and meticulously, Greg taped his ankle, but found he couldn't do the same to his ribs as it was physically impossible for him to lift his arms above waist level.

Resting for a moment, Greg pulled himself together and up using the wall behind him. If he moved carefully he could put the least amount of pressure on his foot. Logically he knew he should stay in one place and wait for the rescue workers to come, but he had nagging doubts that would look down here and then there was Sara. He had to find out what had happened to her. He stiffened as he saw the dumpster he had shoved Sara into. It was now on the opposite side of the alley, tilted against the wall. The lid was cracked open a couple of centimetres.

Laboriously limping closer; Greg saw that the lid was not deformed and gritting his teeth against the pain opened it completely, only to get the fright of his life.

Inside lay Sara, unmoving, a thick streak of blood emphasising the pallor of her face.

"No!" With trembling hands, Greg felt for the pulse in her throat.

"I can't..", he ruthlessly quenched that thought, then breathed a sigh of relief as a good pulse leapt against his fingertips. Sagging against the dumpster in a vain attempt to alleviate the throbbing in his ankle, Greg gently stroked Sara's face in order to ease her into consciousness. He didn't dare move her before knowing how hurt she was. A cursory look showed that she had a bandage on one thigh, crudely fashioned from some material he hoped she hadn't found where she was lying and duct tape, but he couldn't see what had caused the injury.

A low groan had his eyes zeroing in on her face, Her eyelids fluttered then slowly opened. Focusing on his face, Sara slowly said: "Greg? Guess what."

"What Sara?" Gently he moved his hand to support her head.

The oh so familiar quirky smile appeared on her face. Slowly she lifted her right hand so he could see what had up until know been hidden by her body.

"Found the murder weapon."

"And you just had to do it the hard way, didn't you?" Greg quipped before joining her in slightly hysterical laughter.

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Grissom was disgusted: "Brass is no help at all. The fire department is still putting out the blaze and are unwilling to let anybody search the alleys on what they say might as well be a wild goose chase, until they have cleared the area. It doesn't help that we do not know for sure if they were even in the alley at the time of the explosion. The chief says, he will assume they are just having coffee somewhere."

"That's rubbish and you know it. Sara would never leave a scene until she had found all the evidence there was. You know how anal she gets at a scene." Warrick's indignant face showed only to clearly what he would like to do to the chief of the fire department. "Maybe that's how his guys work, but not ours."

"Chill, man." Nick interjected, wondering if Warrick truly felt that worried or just felt guilty for how he had snapped at their colleague that day. The story had been all over the office under an hour later. "We know that. They don't. They will do their best and until then we just have to keep trying to get them to undstand."

"Fat lot of good that will do, if Sara and Greg are lying somewhere bleeding to death." Warrick ground out.

"Don't say that!" Nick snapped.

"We're all thinking it. I'm just the one saying it."

"We know that, Nick." Grissom interjected. "We have to stay focussed, let the fire department do their work and hope for the best.

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"Can you help me out?" Sara asked, slightly worried at Greg's pallor.

Biting his lip, Greg nodded. Bracing himself for the inevitable pain, he moved his hands to under Sara's shoulders and pulled her out of the dumpster. His ankle, however, couldn't take the strain and with a cry of pain, he collapsed to the ground, Sara landing in his lap.

"Anything to get your hands on me, eh?" Sara jested, before she could get a good look at his face.

It had gone grey, a sheen of sweat on his upper lip. He was breathing very shallowly, more gasping than anything else.

"Greg, what's the matter?" Increasingly worried when he failed to answer her, Sara checked over his face, which seemed unhurt, then ran her hands over his torso. As soon as she touched his sides, Greg hissed with pain. Scared at what she would find, Sara quickly unbuttoned his shirt.

"You know, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask." Greg mustered a weak smile at his own joke, causing Sara to bite back a sob. 'He's always so-'

Moving carefully, Sara pushed his shirt out of the way and then it was her turn to gasp. There were three large bruises discolouring the right hand side of his rib cage. The bruise on his left side was much nastier though, as there was an angry red puncture wound in the middle of it, that was slowly oozing blood.

Swallowing down her fear, Sara managed a weak smile: "Well, you cracked some of your ribs I think. But this one," She gently ran her hand around the hole in his side, anxious not to cause any further pain. "This one is definitely broken."

"I know."

Sara's jaw dropped. Had Greg just?

"What do you mean you know?"


	3. Chapter 3

-1Disclaimer: I own no part of CSI. Anything you recognise is not mine. Anything you don't is mine. I would like to say trespass and you're doomed, but then again I am trespassing so I can't really say hands off. Should anybody be interested in my extra characters that is. Hasn't happened before but there is a first time for everything. Just mention me somewhere.

A/N: Anything that does not fit into my little world will be ignored. I can't remember if Sara has any surviving family, so here she doesn't full stop and her mum died in prison some years before. Sigh. Glad I got that off my chest. And I fixed the thing with Papa Olaf. And I can't remember when the thing with what they were like in school was, but it's referenced in here.

**Chapter 3**

"We are going to have to contact their families." Grissom said into the stony silence of the break room. The entire CSI team had returned to the lab, as there was little they could do at the site. And because the fire chief had threatened to have them arrested if they harassed him for another second!

"Sara and Greg have been incommunicado for four hours now. We have to contact the families."

The men looked frazzled and slightly dirty, ash from the still burning fire having marked their faces and clothes. Catherine, having joined them later at the site, was slightly cleaner but no less worried about her colleagues.

"Does Sara even have a family? She never mentions anybody."

Grissom frowned. "There is a family in San Francisco Sara lists as her emergency contact. As far as I know she has no living relatives. Greg's situation is similar, has his grandfather listed as next of kin, no other contacts known."

After Grissom left to make his phone calls, an uncomfortable silence filled the break room. Nick was the first to break it. "Has it occurred to anybody but me that we know hardly anything about Sara and Greg?"

"Yeah. But they never talk about things." Warrick interjected in a vain attempt to alleviate his bad conscience.

"Well, maybe we should have done more asking." Catherine whispered, having the uncomfortable feeling that she had failed her fellow CSI.

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Sara gaped at Greg, unable to believe her ears. Just to make sure she repeated herself.

"You knew your ribs were broken."

Greg grinned weakly, amazed that despite the fact Sara looked just about ready to rip his head off, she was still sitting in his lap. Then he gave himself a mental slap around the head and reminded himself that she was wounded and that was probably why. Belatedly he realized that Sara was waiting for an answer to her question.

Shrugging turned out to be a bad idea. "Was I supposed to leave you in the dumpster. We didn't know how badly you were hurt and the risk of a major infection was rising with every second you spent wallowing in that dump. I figured it would be okay. Chalk it up to chivalry." Inside he hoped that Sara would be happy with that answer as the truth was - no not going there.

Sara, sure there was more to this, submitted for the moment and gathered her wits. "Well we are going to have to bandage them some how. I have "

"duct tape." They finished together. For a second their problems were gone as they shared a smile.

"My father always told me to have some with me." Sara said quietly as she helped Greg rest his arms over her shoulders so she could get the tape as tight as possible. Greg, slightly distracted by the lemony smell still lingering in Sara's hair, only mumbled.

"The only good thing he ever told me." Sara continued bitterly. Leaning in closer, she brought the tape around Greg's back. 'He smells good.' Sara felt a flush rising in her cheeks and bowed her head, hoping Greg wouldn't notice.

Fortunately for her he didn't, much too busy trying to be manly about the pain he felt inside and dealing with his body's reaction to Sara's proximity.

In an effort to distract himself, Greg asked: "What do you mean? Did your dad and you not get along?"

Sara swallowed, realising that in all the long time she had been in Vegas nobody had ever bothered to ask her about her family. It occurred to her that Greg was the only one she would be willing to tell her story to.

"It's a long story. Let's get you comfortable first and then I'll tell you the sordid life story of Sara Sidle, alright?" She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her bangs falling into her face. "But you have to return the favour."

Greg looked at her considering. "Okay, but there is not much to tell. Pretty boring stuff."

"I'll be the judge of that."

It occurred to Greg that for the first time, he and Sara were meeting on even ground, not as CSI and labrat, but as equals. It was a heady experience or would have been if he hadn't been in so much pain.

Leaning on to each other they managed to hobble back to the doorway Greg had woken up in. The effort left both of them weak and trembling, but it had to be done. There was still burning debris falling from the sky, mostly paper and ashes. There was the distant noise of fires, but nothing that allowed the assumption help was on its way.

Trying to breathe shallowly and slowly, Greg shifted until he was in a position that was not quite as excruciatingly painful as the others. He was slowly becoming aware that there was something else wrong with him, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. His torso felt hot and also heavy. He didn't want to upset Sara though, besides help would be coming soon. There was nothing to worry about.

"So, you wanted to talk about your life." He gently prodded Sara. She tilted her head and looked at him.

"Okay, I suppose you could say it all starts with Ryan, when I was 8."

"That's cryptic. What was before?"

Sara turned away, not sure she would be able to take whatever Greg's face was going to show in the next few minutes while she regaled her life before Ryan. "My family was never very loving. I suppose Mom and Dad must have liked each other at one point otherwise there would be no me. Mom was a stay-at-home and Dad was a miner. He lost his job in '82 when I was 7. Couldn't get another one, started drinking and hitting us. Mom and I took it for a year. I always wondered why we didn't leave. Then when I was eight mom couldn't take it anymore. She killed him - stabbed him 22 times. Didn't stop until the neighbour pulled her off him. If he hadn't been around she would have slit her wrists right then and there as well. But he was. Didn't have any other family so when they sent her to prison, I got thrown into the system." Sara took a deep breath, willing back the tears. It had been a long time ago and tears didn't change anything. Finally daring to look at Greg's face, she braced herself for pity, or even revulsion - the usual reactions when people found out she came from a broken home, that her mother was a murderess.

What she saw humbled her. Greg's face showed only sadness with a palpable sense of pride - in her. That she had survived. What she had made of herself.

"Wow, Sara. You're amazing." Greg smiled at her and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Is that why battery cases get to you so much?" Sara's jaw dropped, shocked and glad that he had seen the connection, that she didn't have to tell him. Throwing her arms around him as gently as she could, she burst into tears, burying her head in his jacket, trying not to squeeze too hard, glad that her secret was finally out. That someone here in Vegas understood.

For long moments, Greg just let her cry, surprised that it didn't make him uncomfortable, rather honoured that she would trust him with her tears, realising that she did not often let things out that ate at her. When it sounded like she was calming down, he gently prodded her to continue.

"So, you were in the system. I take it that's where you met Ryan?"

Sara sniffled, then nodded. "Yeah, he was in the same orphanage. His parents had died in a car accident when he was 6. When I met him he had been in three different foster families and two other homes. He was ten then."

"Too old to be cute and accessible for adopting parents, right?"

Sara looked at him in surprise. "Yeah, exactly. Not that he was sad. He was - is - the happiest person I know. He kinda adopted me. I found out later that he had had a little sister in the car with his parents. She also died. So I sort of took her place. He showed me the ropes, gave me a shoulder to cry on. And when the next foster family came knocking, convinced them to take me too. I owe him my life."

"Cause you could have fallen through the cracks, right?"

Again Sara was surprised at Greg's insight, but resolved to ask him later.

"Right. Anyway, Ryan kept me on the straight and narrow. He always supported me, with everything. Thanks to him, school was great. I never doubted that I could be anything I wanted."

Greg realised that Sara was beginning to dwell on what her life would have been like had she not met Ryan, so decided to change the subject slightly. "So what was Sara like in high school? Didn't you once say you were a card-carrying member of the geek-squad?"

He was surprised when he saw a brilliant blush race over her face and didn't catch what she mumbled under her breath.

"Sorry?"

"I was a cheerleader." Sara said quickly, refusing to look him in the eye. "I lied, okay? Can you imagine what the guys would have said if I had admitted that? Not to mention Catherine. That I was once a perky, always happy member of the cheer squad? I'd never hear the end of it. Probably find pompoms in my locker." She was interrupted by Greg's burst of laughter, which was almost immediately cut short by a groan as the movements made his ribs scream with pain, and something inside him tear.

"God, Greg. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Still groaning, Greg put his traitorous body to the side and managed to say: "It was worth it. Sara Sidle is a cheerleader. I can't believe it." His eyes twinkled through the pain.

Sara managed a weak smile. "I will have you know that we won the state championship both years that I was captain." Then she realised what she had admitted and whimpered.

"Are you sure you're not making this up to get my mind off the pain?" Greg teased, then sobered. "I believe you. I always thought you must have been something of a dancer. You can see it in the way you move." His face turned sly. "So tell me did you date the quarter back?"

Sara lightly swatted his arm. "For two weeks. Then I realised how thick he was."

"What happened next?"

"I skipped a year and graduated one year after Ryan. We'd both got scholarships for Berkley, so moved in together off campus. Ryan studied architecture and I decided I wanted to be a CSI. I even joined a sorority."

"Now, I know you are having me on. You?"

"I'm serious. Ryan's idea in the beginning. He said that since I was going to finish after him, he wanted me to meet other people on campus. Plus he said I needed girlfriends and couldn't just hang around him all the time."

"Wise man."

"I know. I moved into the sorority house in my last year when they made me president. Best time I ever had."

"You do realise you are giving me endless blackmail material here, right?"

Sara looked at him for a long time and said soberly: "I trust you."

This time it was Greg's turn to flush with pleasure. "Thank you."

The shared moment was cut short, when a second explosion rocked the building behind them.

"Damn, I think somebody has it in for us." Sara said. When Greg failed to answer she took a close look at him. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face and he was turning an alarming shade of pasty white.

"Greg what's the matter? Talk to me."

Greg swallowed past his dry tongue and managed to say: "I don't think I just broke my ribs."


	4. Chapter 4

-1Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. There I said it. Happy, now? sob

A/N: A theme is developing in my head. Each chapter starts with a non-Sara/Greg bit, to provide some info as to how the others are faring. I will not be very sympathetic with the other CSI's. As you might have already been able to tell. Sara always seems like something of a stepchild to me. And Greg gives the same impression. As if they are in the group but not of the group. If you get what I mean.

**Chapter 4**

A tall blond, blue-eyed man stormed into the CSI laboratory, demanding answers at once or there would be hell to pay. He was trailed by a beautiful, pale brunette carrying a sleeping toddler.

Coincidentally, Lorraine was again on duty and remembered them from their visit a week before: "Hello, Mr. Samuels. Mr. Grissom asked me to keep an eye out for you. He's expecting you in the ready room. There is also a couch you can put the baby on. I'll be bringing coffee and something to eat along in a minute." She smiled at them. Ryan, unsure how to continue now that his tirade was interrupted, sagged.

The brunette patted his arm and took over. "That would be wonderful. Please call me Marie and this is Ryan, my husband. Susie is shattered. As are we. But we need answers. If you could just point us in the right direction, we'll be fine. And coffee would be greatly appreciated. Ryan here lives on it. He hasn't had a cup in over three hours."

Lorraine smiled: "Just like Sara. She drives Greg round the bend because she keeps liberating his good coffee." The receptionists eyes darkened. "He's the other CSI that's missing. Well he's not really a CSI. Works in the labs here. "

"Sara's told us about him." Marie's face went serious: "Then you haven't heard anything yet? We had hoped that there would be some answers by the time we got here."

"No, the firemen are still trying to put out the fires. I'm not sure if I should tell you this, but there's been a second explosion. A building has collapsed and now they are even more reluctant to let anybody near enough to search the surrounding area. They fear that the ground has become unstable and have people checking the tunnels as we speak."

Marie swayed in place, glad when Ryan put his hand to the small of her back to steady her. Lorraine seeing this, continued immediately: "Mr. Grissom is waiting. It's the third door on the left down that corridor. He's sure to know more."

Ryan thanked her, worry for his little sister gnawing at his gut and moved his family down the hall and to the ready room.

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Grissom's first impression of Sara's brother was that of barely controlled worry and anger. He understood the former, but was slightly confused by the latter.

"Mr. Samuels?"

Ryan's eyes swung around and practically pinned Sara's boss to the wall. The amount of hostility in his gaze surprised Grissom. A tiny, second thought running through his mind was that the rage had to be very obvious for him to notice, as he was not exactly known for his people skills.

"Yes, that's me." Any further introductions were cut short by Nick, Warrick and Catherine entering the ready room. Ryan's only response was a raised a eyebrow as he mentally allocated names to faces from what Sara had been telling him.

"Let me make the introductions." Grissom started. "This is Sara's emergency contact Ryan Samuels. I'm sorry but I don't know your family's names. Or how you are related to Sara."

"Surprise, surprise." Ryan muttered.

Marie gave him the look and took over - again. "My name is Marie Samuels. And this is our daughter and Sara's goddaughter Susie. She's four."

As one Warrick, Catherine and Grissom's jaws dropped. Nick had been expecting something of the sort, having been privy to Sara's interaction with the family when they had been in Vegas.

"But Sara hates children." It had slipped out before Warrick could help himself. Milliseconds later he fervently wished he had been able to keep his big mouth shut, when Ryan and Marie both fixed him with a laser glare.

"And how would you know?" Marie hissed. "You never even talk to her. She might as well be invisible for all you care. All work and no play and all that rot."

"Now see here." Catherine snapped, not about to let some stuck up friend of Sara's lash out at Warrick. "What do you know? You're not even from here. Sara is our colleague." She smiled patronisingly at the little brunette quivering with rage. "I am sure we know all there is to know about Sara."

'Oh oh.' Nick thought, having wisely kept his mouth shut. After seeing Sara interact with the Samuels he had had the thought that there was more to Miss Sidle than they had all assumed. He had been making an effort to get to know her better, but more often than not work and his colleagues had got in the way. Judging by the way Ryan was keeping a tight lock on Marie's arm, Catherine should thank all her lucky stars that she was still alive. Marie looked ready to rip her heart out.

This was the scene Brass walked in on. Grissom standing uncomfortably by the table, very obviously wishing he was anywhere else, preferably Timbuktu. Warrick by the door, jaw hanging down. A tall man holding back a little brunette who looked like she wanted to commit bodily harm, preferably on Catherine who was standing in front of her, arms crossed, with an ugly smirk on her face. And on the sofa lay a little angel, sleeping through the entire thing.

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As the sun passed overhead, Sara looked down worriedly at Greg. They had shifted positions to be more comfortable. Greg now lay with his head in her lap. He had gone a truly alarming shade of pasty in the last few hours as they waited and waited to be rescued. It became more and more evident as time wore on that Greg had internal bleeding. And there was nothing Sara could do about it.

'I can't believe this is happening in the middle of Vegas. How stupid is that?'

Gently Sara stroked Greg's hair, attempting to hold him in the here and now.

"Don't stop talking." Greg whispered, without opening his eyes.

Sara attempted to stroke away the frown of pain on his forehead and cleared her throat. "Where was I? Ah yes, I told you the story about Marie and I decorating the principal's house with shaving foam, right? So glad we weren't caught then. I would have been expelled and then where would I be?"

"You would have found a way." Greg managed to say, breathing shallowly. Sara smiled. Even when he was so hurt he couldn't even open his eyes, he still managed to make her feel good about herself.

"Thank you. Round about that time, Ryan decided we had too much time on our hands."

"I'm not surprised. I was thinking the same thing."

"Well, uni was not that challenging. So Ryan got the two of us involved in the big brother scheme."

Greg's eyes opened in surprise and he couldn't hide a slight smirk. "Aren't you the wrong sex for that?"

Sara managed a giggle. "Well, yeah. But Ryan had been badgering his boss for months to extend the scheme to girls. He was only looking for responsible girls to convince him completely."

"And he settled for you guys instead." Greg quipped weakly.

Fortunately he had kept his eyes closed this time, or he would have seen Sara bite back tears with a vengeance. 'Even when he is - no I'm not even going to think it - he still manages to tease and make me laugh.'

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Sara managed to mock-growl: "I'll have you know that we were great big sisters."

Greg reached up and gently squeezed the hand cradling his head. "Never doubted it for a second."

Reversing her hand slightly, Sara laced her fingers with Greg's and continued to regale him with tales of her time as a big sister.


	5. Chapter 5

-1Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, but the Samuels are mine as is Sara's background.

A/N: I can't believe this is already the fifth chapter. Normally I get stuck around 3000 words, as anybody will have noticed who has read any of my other stuff. And I have real problems finishing things. However I have an end for this story in mind and should get there in another 2 chapters at most. I am sorry that the previous chapter was so short, but it seemed like a good place to stop. If you don't agree let me know. Back to Marie trying to decorate Catherine's head with her spine. As a hint, if I don't bother to show their thoughts I am really not happy with them. Catherine is not getting any redeeming internal dialogue. I am painting a verbal picture here and I am sorry to say that she is the villain of this piece. With Warrick as her minion. Okay it's not THAT bad, but close. She doesn't get a good slap, which I think she sometimes richly deserves.

It has been mentioned that Ryan is very hostile. People react the stress in different ways. Ryan is modelled a bit on my Dad, who can get huffy when things go wrong.

**Chapter 5**

Brass cleared his throat nervously and turned to Grissom. "This Sara's family?"

The feisty brunette whirled at him. "Yes, we are. What do you know? Anything new?"

"Well, the fire department just called, that they are ready to move in and look around. The biggest fires are under control and the explosions have not undermined the ground too much contrary to expectations. Houses are being cleared first and then a group of six firemen will sweep the alleys, starting from where Grissom said they were when he last spoke to Sara."

"If they knew where to look why the hell didn't they go in and check?" Ryan wanted to know.

Brass blanched slightly at the barely controlled fury in front of him, glad it wasn't directed completely at him.

"There were two mayor blazes in the area and many small fires. The department needed all the firemen they had and the ones from surrounding towns just to get the fires under control. A gas main had exploded and there were reasonable indications that there could be a third or even fourth explosion. They were reluctant to send anybody in. The main has been disconnected now so the danger has shrunk measurably."

Ryan nodded tersely, accepting the explanation.

Brass turned to Grissom and asked: "Where's Greg's family?"

"Greg's grandfather is visiting his sister in Norway, left a forwarding number on his answering machine thankfully. Should be on his flight back by now, provided he could get onto the first plane. No remaining family in the States and we don't have any other contact numbers."

Privately Nick wondered if Greg and Sara hated them all for taking so little interest in their lives. Greg seemed like such a happy go lucky person he had never even thought twice about what his home life might be like. 'And how did it go? When you assume you make an ass of you and me? Sounds about right. We are such idiots.' He tuned back in to what Brass was saying.

"They will notify us as soon as they know more, and what hospital to go to."

Marie sighed, shoulders slumping and moved over to the couch, where she gathered Susie into her arms, cradling her gently from side to side. Torn between taking care of his wife and child and demanding more answers, Ryan finally sat down beside her and hugged her, both staring down at the babe in their arms.

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"And then Grissom phoned and asked me to do the internal investigation. I was so flattered that he would trust me with it." Sara had been getting to the point where she was talking herself hoarse, but continued on regardless. Anything to stop Greg from slipping away. His occasional quietly whispered comments where enough to keep her going.

"Plus you had a crush on him." Greg interjected so quietly she had trouble hearing him.

Sara blushed. "Noticed that, did you?"

"Wasn't exactly hard to miss." Even through the pain Greg realised that now was the time to ask the question burning in him for the last couple of months. Steeling himself, he asked: "And do you still?"

Sara thought hard, before answering truthfully: "Have a crush on him? No, I don't. I got over him a while back. Grissom is married already and I am not willing to be his mistress and take second place."

Now, Greg's eyes did shoot open, even though he could see very little in the shadow of the alley. "Grissom's married? To who? Not Catherine, right?"

Sara giggled slightly, amazed that she still could considering their situation. "That's not what I meant. He's married to his work. First and foremost. Forensics is the love of his life and I could be nothing more than a diversion that he would come to resent for taking up his time. So I moved on. Marie and Ryan visiting really helped. They put things into perspective." Sara wondered if she should tell Greg her other plans. But then again if she couldn't trust him then who was left? Greg had never let her down.

"In fact. I'm thinking about going back to San Francisco." She steeled herself for what was coming, and was disappointed.

Greg simply cracked a small smile. "I was wondering when you were going to tell anybody. I can't blame you. I could see it in your eyes."

A small part of Sara's soul was bitterly disappointed that Greg seemed to take her leaving so lightly.

"I've been thinking the same thing. I'm getting nowhere here. I'm just a glorified lab rat, never mind that I have enough degrees to bury Warrick." Greg added so quietly Sara almost didn't hear him.

"You could come, too." It just burst out of her. The one person she would miss should she leave was right there with her.

Greg looked surprised and didn't respond. Sara regretted her outburst almost instantly and attempted to change the topic.

"Now it's your turn. You promised that if I told you about my life then you would tell me about yours."

Greg smiled weakly and gave their still intertwined hands a squeeze, regretting that he couldn't say how much having her there meant to him.

He coughed weakly, trying to get past the lethargy, sweeping through him.

"Well there is not much to tell."

"I'll be the judge of that. Now spill and there had better be blackmail-worthy info hidden in there somewhere."

"Well, I was born in Norway thirty-one years ago."

Sara interrupted him: "But you don't look thirty-one. That means you're my age."

Greg grinned. "I keep well?"

Sara pretended to be annoyed. "What? Are you saying that I don't?"

"No, no I wasn't. Really." Greg's stammering turned into a bout of coughing that turned him pale and trembling.

"Ssshhh. It's alright. Don't upset yourself. I was only kidding." Sara gently stroked his forehead and not for the first time in their ordeal prayed frantically that they would be found soon.

"Now you were saying that you are Norwegian."

"Was. My parents died when I was five. The only relative left was my grandfather on my father's side here in America. So I was sent to him."

"That must have been difficult for you. Did you even speak English when you came over?"

Greg was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate and the warm feeling in his stomach had slowly turned hot. He didn't need to be an expert to realise that he was bleeding to death. He was just glad that it was internal and Sara wouldn't have to see it. He knew it was a bit irrational as Sara worked with dead bodies every day, but he wanted to spare her this.

"Greg? Are you alright?" Sara shook herself, of course he wasn't. "I mean are you in a lot of pain?"

Greg tried to answer but any response he might have had was drowned by a fresh wave of pain that swept through him and dragged him to the brink of unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, unsure if she had even heard him, and then fell like a rock.

"Greg?"

"GREG?"

"Don't go!"

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

-1Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. Nothing. Nada. And please don't sue as all I have is my car and my books and nobody gets those. Over my dead body.

A/N: I wanted to keep the tension going, meaning an entire additional chapter without telling what happens to Greg, but after ending the last chapter the way I did, I just haven't got the heart.

I just realised that this is almost finished. I think this chapter and then one very small epilogue. Under 1000 words. I can take constructive criticism and flames are accepted as long as we are talking nice wee candle flames and not raging volcano flames. Those hurt.

A/N2: I feel so guilty. I did not expect the kind of reaction I got from the last chapter. Yes, it is a cliff-hanger, I am just so moved that it touched you that way. It got my muse back into gear. I have no trouble writing my characters into trouble, but the other side, the conclusion does not come easy. Didn't when I was writing my dissertation - lost major points on that - and doesn't now.

**Chapter 6**

Sara couldn't believe it, Greg had left her. Sobbing silently, she clutched him to her chest, rocking silently, oblivious to the pressure and pain this put on her leg. Nothing could reach her. When the first hand reached for her shoulder she screamed in fright. Looking up, she saw a fireman, but his image wavered as if she were looking through a fractured mirror, while the sound of his voice was filtered by several feet of water.

"Ma'am. Can you hear me?"

Sara had never felt so stupid in her life. There seemed to be no connection between her mouth and her brain.

"Ma'am. We need you to let go."

Vaguely she realised that she was clutching at Greg like a lifeline, but felt unable to let go, even though logically she knew she should. As long as she held on, Greg was not gone. He was still here with her.

"Ma'am. You really need to let go. We have to move you to hospital."

As soon as she loosened her grip, Greg was pulled from her arms as easily as snow melts in the spring.

A helpless cry escaped her as she futilely reached out to hold on. And then he was gone completely. Sara was almost catatonic when the fireman gently picked her up and deposited her on a gurney. The only thought that ran through her brain over and over again were: "Greg's gone. I need him back. He saved my life. I need him-"

A syringe pierced the skin on her arm and she fell into the welcoming arms of the narcotics racing through her body.

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"They found them."

The words fell into the silence of the room, like pebbles into a pond, spreading ripples as one by one the people realised what had been said. The reactions were as different as the characters. Grissom silently thanked anybody who happened to be listening. Nick raised his eyes to the heavens and sent a prayer of thanks into the ether. Catherine was quietly relieved, while Warrick thumped the table just once to relieve the tension he had been feeling for the last interminably long eight hours. Marie burst into tears, while Ryan just dropped his head into his hands and asked the question no-one dared face in their first flush of relief.

"Are they alive?" Marie looked at him in shock, how could he even ask that. Asking brought the truth and just now she wanted to savour the feeling of the sister of her heart saved.

Brass didn't know what to say: "Sara has a knife wound in her upper thigh, they are operating on it now. Then there are cuts and bruises, although nothing serious. She was fortunate, the knife did not pierce any mayor arteries. The doctors stitched her up and put her on a drip, transfusing a pint of blood and fluids. She should make a swift recovery."

"Thank God." Marie breathed a sigh of relief. Sara would come back to them.

While Nick was beyond happy that Sara had come out of her ordeal largely unscathed, he was filled with dread by what Brass had not mentioned. In the absence of Greg's grandfather still stuck in a plane halfway across the Atlantic, he asked the pertinent question: "What about Greg?"

"The doctors won't say. His situation is stable."

"That could mean anything. Doctors always say that when they don't know what else to say." Warrick stated, worry flitting over his face.

"Well, that is all I can tell you. The firemen told me they almost lost him on the way to the hospital, but he is alive right now. They will only inform next of kin." Brass paused, then added: "Sara said he saved her life."


	7. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed. I still do not own CSI. SOB

A/N: Well here it is. Last chapter. I know this was a short story, as far as multi-chapters go, but it always felt like the right place to stop. Some people felt like I didn't show enough of the search for Greg and Sara, but this was a character piece, plus I am crap at writing action. Just can't do it. Also, unlike Grave Danger in which Nick is buried in the desert and the team had clues to follow, in this case it was in the city so out of their hands. Plus it worked for me. And before you rib me about the end, it is all about potential. On that note, please move on over to home truths, which brackets this tale.

**Epilogue**

Greg swam up through layers of drowsiness, that held him down with syrupy arms of steel. It took an eternity of effort for him to open his eyes and even then he had to blink what felt like a million times, before the pictures, blurring and wavering madly, settled down into a useful image.

Swallowing was difficult, as his throat felt like he had choked on the Sahara desert. He did however remember the sensation from the time he had been in hospital after the lab explosion.

His hand felt like it was glued to the bed sheet and for one panicking second Greg was convinced that he was paralysed. As shock raced through his system, he realised that his 'paralysis' had a different reason than he thought. Beside his bed was a wheelchair. And in the wheelchair sat Sara Sidle, one hand holding onto his. Much like it had been in that horrible alley, when the world seemed to crash down around them.

It was the most beautiful sight in the world. Moving ever so softly, he turned his hand in hers until their fingers were once more interlaced. The movement was not soft enough, though, as Sara jerked slightly and blinked up at him.

Then cognition rushed into her eyes and a brilliant smile raced over her face, that fairly illuminated Greg's world.

"Hey." she whispered.

"Hey yourself." Greg whispered back, then couldn't help himself. Dreading her answer, yet all the same knowing deep down what it was going to be, he asked: "So, San Francisco. Offer still stand?"

**The End**


	8. Author's Note

As some of you may know, I was constantly mentioning a sister tale to this, named Home truths. I am glad to say that that project is finally under way. The first three chapters are up and running and preceded True to your heart. The next few chapters will deal with the actions of this tale from the point of view of Sara's and Greg's family. Probably one chapter each. Having never seen Greg's papa Olaf on the show, I feel free to imagine him as a rather no-nonsense sensible person, who may or may not give some people a piece of his mind.

I have also changed a few things, so that this tale makes more sense. Most glaring one I found was Brass stating one minute that the doctors would not tell him anything and then the next spouting off what was wrong with Greg. Sorry about that. All better now, I hope.

So what I am tying to say is slide on over to the other side and check out Home truths. Pretty please.


End file.
